


Cassius Warrington and the Triwizard Tournament

by lifegivesyoulemonsandsugar



Series: CWatTT [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Book 4: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Cassius Warrington as champion, Complete, Good Slytherins, Hogwarts Fourth Year, Not Canon Compliant - Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Slytherin, Slytherin Politics, Triwizard Tournament, Wizarding Wars (Harry Potter), Wizarding World (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:22:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 20,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23532283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lifegivesyoulemonsandsugar/pseuds/lifegivesyoulemonsandsugar
Summary: "There's a rumor going round, Warrington got up early and put his name in," Dean told Harry. "That big bloke from Slytherin who looks like a sloth." Harry, who had played Quidditch against Warrington, shook his head in disgust. "We can't have a Slytherin champion!" But then, they did. Goblet of Fire AU where Warrington is the champion. Based on the tumblr post, Cassius-centric.
Series: CWatTT [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2042146
Comments: 25
Kudos: 94





	1. Chapter 1

So I saw this idea from a tumblr post of what if a Slytherin had been the Hogwarts champion instead and I really liked it, so I'm going to try to write it. Who knows, maybe it'll work, maybe not. But this is the first (pretty short) part.  
///

"There's a rumor going round, Warrington got up early and put his name in," Dean told Harry. "That big bloke from Slytherin who looks like a sloth."

Harry, who had played Quidditch against Warrington, shook his head in disgust. "We can't have a Slytherin champion!"

"The Hogwarts champion," Dumbledore announced, "is Cassius Warrington!" The cheers from the Slytherin table were almost enough to block out the dumbfounded silence at the other three tables. Scattered applause came from the Ravenclaws, but the Hufflepuffs looked rather put out, the Gryffindors downright furious.

"I'd have taken pretty boy Diggory over him!" Ron declared, and Harry couldn't help but agree. Warrington sloped off in the same direction as the other champions, Harry watching with bitterness. Would it be too wrong, he wondered, to cheer for Viktor Krum or Fleur Delacour after all? Anything was better than a Slytherin. He was about to voice this to Ron when a hush fell over the room as Dumbledore made his closing words, and then the goblet blazed again. Dumbledore caught the paper and stared at it. More silence.

"Harry Potter."

Harry's head spun. How had his name gotten into the goblet? He hadn't entered, he couldn't pass the age line. Everyone was staring at him now, no one was applauding. He met Ron's eyes, registering his friend's shock and hurt, but before he could say anything-if, indeed, he had been able to get words to come out of his mouth, Harry was sent out with the other champions. Fleur, Viktor, and... Warrington. He recalled Ron's sentiment, and felt it even more strongly. At least Cedric might have given him the benefit of the doubt. Warrington? Not a chance. He would think Harry had undermined him. The Slytherins would kill him. Stifling a groan, Harry hoped without hope that the situation would be fixed. Half an hour later he stood in front of the Fat Lady, the fourth Hogwarts champion.

/

Cassius had been a little surprised, to tell the truth. He had assumed Diggory would win, or even Johnson. Of course, he hadn't let that stop him—and good thing too, as it had turned out. And then, of course, Potter. It always was Potter, wasn't it? As Quidditch star with a tendency towards racking up last-minute house points, Gryffindor's golden boy he had been and, Warrington (in addition to most of the school) suspected, would be for the next four years. Still, he thought, with grudging respect, it couldn't have been easy to get his name into the goblet. He could have convinced an older student to do it, but Warrington was pretty sure no one in the school knew how to trick the goblet into thinking there were four schools in the tournament. Dumbledore could maybe, but why would he? The tournament was dangerous, and feeding Potter's ego didn't seem like quite a good enough reason for risking his life. Uncomfortable, but unable to think of other ways it could've happened, he decided to worry about it later.

/

"Per laborem," Cassius muttered, the door to the Slytherin common room sliding open. He was met with cheers as he entered into a room set up for a party, bottles of smuggled firewhiskey on the table along with some of Hogwarts finest foods. It was a good party and he was honored that they'd arranged it for him; but in all honesty, he was a bit relieved when he was able to slip away to his room, reveling in the silence which, regrettably, ceased as Adrian Pucey came into the room.

"You know, when the party's for you you're supposed to be the last one there, not the first to leave." He did know, he just didn't particularly care. Adrian sat down on his own bed. "Bloody Potter, right?" Cassius snorted.

"Of course Potter. We shouldn't really be surprised, should we? I mean, his first year there was the business with the stone, his second the chamber, last year all the problems with Black...it would've been weirder if he didn't get in." Adrian shrugged, acknowledging the point, then smirked.

"I bet Dumbledore gives him 50 points just for being a champion."

"60 for living a year without quidditch."

"70 for going to class with the added responsibility."

"100 for waking up the morning of the task," threw in a third voice—Andrew Fawley, their third roommate. They continued to build off each other until all three were practically crying with laughter, much to the confusion of Jack Bagley, the final sixth year Slytherin boy. The confusion on his face, of course, only served to make the other three laugh harder; and eventually he gave up on trying to get an explanation out of them, grabbing a bottle of Ogden's finest from his suitcase and returning to the party. Finally, the laughter died down and tears of mirth were wiped away from the corners of the boys' eyes.

"Anyway, I haven't even said well done, mate. You deserve it." Warrington appreciated the sentiment, but he felt a bit odd about accepting praise for a glorified cup spitting out his name.

"It's not as if I've actually done anything yet. Save it for when I beat Potter into the ground," he responded. Andrew grinned.

"Can't. I won't be able to get past Malfoy at that point—he'll be singing your praises," he responded. "It might be sooner than that, by his talk tonight. He was going on about making badges."

"Merlin," Cassius groaned.

"I'm not sure if the idea was more to support you or knock Potter down though," Fawley continued. "Maybe both. Seems like a Malfoy thing to do."

"Merlin," Cassius repeated. "Can he get any more embarrassing?" Fawley shrugged, obviously unconcerned with his friend's dilemma.

"He's sort of right though, you know. The other houses aren't too happy about Potter sneaking in again. Well, besides Gryffindor, of course. You might actually have more support if people keep being angry about Potter."

"Gee, I'm so glad people support me because they're upset about Potter. Makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside," Warrington said drily, rolling his eyes.

"If you two are finished, I think we all have Potions to get done if we don't want to work on it tomorrow," Adrian put in. Two heads turned his way in disbelief.

"Your best friend just got selected as Hogwarts champion, and you're thinking about Potions?" Andrew sounded incredulous, a look of disgust on his face. Pucey shrugged.

"He's near head of our class, part of the House team, and he volunteers to help first years with transfiguration. Volunteers. To tutor. Pardon me for being rather unsurprised."

"It looks good on applications," Warrington defended. "Besides, it makes McGonagall like me, and that has to be worth something, right?" The looks he got in return suggested that he was not, in fact, right. "Anyway, it could just as easily have been Diggory. Or any of the seventh years for that matter."

"Okay fine, it's pretty impressive," Pucey relented, "but we do need to work on the Potions. It's three feet on antidotes, and Andrew has an extra six inches on what exactly he did wrong in class. And McGonagall's almost certain to give us something new to learn tomorrow, so we won't have time." He moved to return to his paper, but then glanced up, grinned wickedly. "How much do you think it's killing the Gryffindors that their only stake in the tournament is a fourteen year old?"

"Merlin Warrington, if you let a fourteen year old beat you..."

"Don't even finish that thought Fawley," Warrington warned, but the image was unfortunately stuck in his mind of Potter lifting the triwizard cup as he stood off to the side. "Great Salazar, don't finish that thought." He felt almost queasy, like before a quidditch match. Quidditch... that made him think... "I need a training plan."

///

If you have any suggestions at all, please feel free to bring them up! no guarantees I'll put them in, but I'll definitely consider them! Also, as this story progresses, people with accents are going to speak, but for clarity purposes, I'm not going to write them in (I just think it'd probably end up really confusing and inconsistent).


	2. Chapter 2

"Great Agrippa. How did he get them done so fast?" Warrington muttered under his breath, scanning the Great Hall. Nearly every Slytherin, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff was wearing a badge, the words on which alternated between "Support Cassius Warrington, the REAL Hogwarts Champion" and "Potter STINKS". Malfoy himself walked up to give the three their badges, accompanied by a long (and loud) speech of support. By the time he walked away, Pucey was practically shaking with repressed laughter. "Not. A. Word." Warrington grumbled, putting the badge in his pocket. There was no way that was going on his body. Adrian and Andrew, of course,were already wearing theirs.

"You know, I bet we could make a killing off Cassius Warrington memorabilia," Andrew remarked, taking in once more the sea of badges and narrowly dodging the swipe Warrington made at his head. Adrian nodded in agreement.

"I could write a biography. 'Zero to Hero: the story of one annoying Slytherin's rise to fame and glory'." Unconcerned with the glare he was receiving, he went on. "When Cassius Warrington entered Hogwarts a pudgy, clumsy child he had little idea of what the future had in store for him. Mediocre in everything, Warrington rode on the backs of his friends to scrape the grades necessary to pass his assessments." (Here a splutter of disbelief from Cassius, and a laugh from Andrew.) "But life changed when, against all odds, he was chosen as Hogwarts Champion. Well, him and a fourteen year old boy. Perhaps he was smarter than he looked. Or perhaps no one else-" At this point, words ceased coming out of Pucey's mouth as Cassius magically shut him up. A pleased smirk crossed Adrian's face at the reaction, and he began to eat toast and jam while working on the potions essay he had meant for the previous night. Warrington undid his spell and began to eat as well. Andrew eyed the essay with disdain.

"How aren't you prefect again?" he asked, sounding as though being prefect was a disease one might pick up

"Bagley has fewer detentions," Pucey responded, not looking up. "And I wouldn't be working on this now if you tossers would've let me finish last night. But no, I had to help you make a plan. So don't complain."

"You were very helpful," Warrington noted. "I don't know of half the spells you told me to learn." At this Pucey did look up, lifting his eyes to the cieling as though appealing to the heavens.

"Yes Cassius, that was the idea of my being the one to make the list." Warrington decided that no response was necessary, since distracting his friend further would only annoy him more, and instead let him return to his work. Really, he reflected, Pucey might've been champion if he was a few months older. He was certainly smart enough, although he preferred to work in the background, gaining social footing by helping others. Fawley was the opposite, all about the limelight and taking action, climbing up the achievements of others and using his looks, charm, and humor to get into the places he wanted and out of the ones he didn't.

Warrington wasn't quite as smart as Adrian, nor was he as attractive and charming as Andrew; but he worked hard to do well, and he was fairly well liked among the members of his own house, if not so much the others. It came with being a Slytherin, he supposed, which was really rather unfortunate.

"Do you think people hated Merlin for being a Slytherin too?" Warrington asked, and was met with two blank stares. "Never mind," he muttered, realizing there was no way they could've followed that thought process. The other two shrugged and went back to what they had been doing (which for Pucey was working on his essay, and for Fawley was trying to chat up Tracey Davis). Warrington continued to eat his breakfast as he looked over the training regime that had been decided upon. In addition to physical exercise (Andrew was making him run) and spellwork (mostly charms, jinxes, and hexes, but Adrian had thrown in a few countercurses and advanced Transfiguration topics that were bound to be near impossible), Fawley had set up a diet, and Pucey had written him a list of five books on the history of the Triwizard tournament to give him an idea of what the Tasks might involve. With that on top of his NEWT courses, Warrington decided that this year might just kill him.

/

After nearly two weeks of his training, Cassius was highly regretting asking his friends to help him train; mostly because it meant they knew precisely how to irritate him. Adrian kept eating cauldron cakes in front of him, and Andrew kept inviting him to play wizard's chess while he was reading. Pucey didn't even like cauldron cakes. And Fawley was horrible at wizard's chess. Sometimes he really hated his friends. He felt that he couldn't be too mad at them though, especially when Fawley woke up in the mornings to help him exercise and Pucey stayed up late teaching him spells. Their expertise in their areas was incredibly useful, even if it did make him feel more and more mediocre every day.

He was reading The History of the Triwizard Tournament: a detailed account of the most noble event and its foundations (a book every bit as boring as its title suggested) in Divination one day. He wondered vaguely, not for the first time, why he was taking the NEWT level of such a horrible class-although Trelawney's droning about the mystical nature of teacups or something did provide wonderful white noise. His focus was interrupted, however, by a knock on the trapdoor.

"Ah, I sense we have a visitor," Trelawney said dreamily. Warrington tried not to snort. No kidding.

A fifth year Ravenclaw-something Edgecombe, Cassius thought-was let in and she gave a note to the professor.

"Mr. Warrington, it appears that you are needed. You will need to complete a star chart for your next class." Warrington nodded in affirmation. Star chart? He was sure she'd been talking about teacups. Ah well, he'd be making it up anyway. Warrington followed the girl down the ladder.

"So, um, why am I needed? And where?" He was pretty sure he'd never spoken to Edgecombe (Marietta! That's what it was) before, and wasn't quite sure why she would've come to get him.

"For the wand weighing. It's a very important part of the Tournament's history-"

"Yeah, yeah, I know. 'The wand-weighing ensures that each competitor has a wand in perfect working condition, which is able to be of aid to him or her in the task to come' and all that. It was created after the tenth tournament when it was revealed that the Durmstrang contestant's wand had been faulty." This had been in 'The Triwizard Tournament: 101 Fun Facts for the Curious Young Wizard!', a book that had been painful to read, and he suspected had been added to his list out of spite after he'd put a potion in one of Adrian's cauldron cakes to make his hair turn blue for the next 24 hours.

"Um, yeah." Edgecombe looked considerably annoyed at being interrupted, or maybe just that he was right. He was pretty sure she didn't like him. "It's in that little classroom near McGonagall's. The empty one. Have fun, I guess." And then she was gone.

"Good talk," Warrington said to no one, proceeding to the room Edgecombe had described. When he got there, he saw that Fleur and Krum were already present, but Potter was nowhere to be seen. After a few minutes of awkwardly standing in silence, Warrington decided to make conversation (or try to, anyhow).

"So...you're from France." Fleur looked at him unblinkingly. She was definitely part Veela, he decided, thinking of the rumors about her trickling through the school. Unfortunately, that didn't help the conversation, so he tried a question."What's it like there?"

"It is much warmer and more comfortable than your castle. And we do not have any poltergeists, and the stairs do not change."

"That's nice." Warrington blinked. He wasn't sure how to respond when she had essentially just said that Hogwarts had a horrible environment. Honestly, Beauxbatons sounded boring. He wasn't sure what else to say (that hadn't even been a proper response, really), but luckily he was saved by the entrance of Dumbledore, Potter, and a woman he recognized as the Daily Prophet reporter Rita Skeeter.

Ollivander checked all of their wands (13 1/2 inches, vine and dragon heartstring, quite sturdy, ah yes it's in very nice condition Mr. Warrington), taking an especially long time with Potter's, then Skeeter's photographer got them in position for a picture with (you guessed it) Potter front and center. He could hear the article already: 'Potter, an unlikely hero, rises up as a fourth year to take the place of Hogwarts' second champion, much making up for the disappointment of the whole school that a Slytherin had been chosen'. Maybe not quite so blunt but who knew? Some of Skeeter's stuff was nasty. Warrington decided to head back to the common room instead of trying to catch the end of Divination. He passed Potter on his way out of the room and wondered vaguely if he should say anything about the competition, have a conversation with him or something, but decided that it would be too weird. They weren't friends or anything, so what would be the point? 'The Triwizard Tournament was created to encourage relations between competitors and their schools', The History of the Triwizard Tournament repeated in his mind. He ignored it and continued on his way. With any luck, he could finish that star chart before Pucey had time to torture him by teaching more complicated spellwork.


	3. Chapter 3

The First Task was tomorrow. The whole school was talking about it. Everywhere Cassius went, students looked at him and whispered, and he had the uncomfortable feeling that there were bits of his most recent meal left on his face, or that his hair was sticking up, or that his robes were on backwards. Resisting the desire to once again check a mirror, Cassius made his way to one of the courtyards. It being November, they were considerably less crowded, and the cold was worth it. Not only did he avoid a good percentage of the Hogwarts student body, he more specifically avoided Malfoy. Cassius suposed he might be being kind of hard on him, but he felt like he had a bodyguard or something (or maybe it was that he needed a bodyguard).

As usual, almost no one was in the courtyard, and Warrington let out a sigh of relief. He had almost made it all the way across the courtyard, which led almost directly to the Arithmancy classroom, when he heard his name being called. Pushing back another sigh, this time of irritation, he turned around, expecting Malfoy, or even one of the first years from the group that he'd seen whispering in the hallway. He definitely wasn't expecting Potter.

"Um...hi?" He didn't really mean it to be a question, but it kind of came out as one. Potter hadn't really bothered to talk to him since the night they had been chosen and exchanged a few sentences (but then, he supposed, he hadn't exactly tried to talk to Potter either).

"Dragons." Warrington's eyebrows rose, and he thought back to his theory that someone else must have put Potter's name in. With the kid spouting random magical creatures, he was even more certain, and didn't know how to respond. "That's the first task, I mean. We have to steal an egg, and they have a dragon for each of us." Warrington's mouth felt dry. Holy Salazar. He had no idea how to fight a dragon, other than that it was a supremely bad idea to do so one-on-one.

"Why are you telling me?" He asked. After most of a month (well, most of four years really) without any contact, he couldn't think of any reason Potter had. He was giving up an advantage.

"It's only fair. Madame Maxime knows, so she'll tell Fleur, and I'm pretty sure Karkaroff saw too. You would've been the only one." Cassius nodded.

"Well, thanks then." He tried to sound casual. He was pretty sure he'd failed. Potter left, and the uncomfortable realization hit him that he owed Potter something. Then "Dragons?" He figured he had a lot more to worry about than being in someone's debt. And, he figured, intercepting Pucey outside the Arithmancy classroom, a lot more to worry about than classes.

/

"So what have we learned?"

"Other than the fact that it's a really bad idea to take on a dragon single-handedly?" Warrington glared at Adrian, who shrugged. "Not much that you don't learn for the Magical Creatures OWL. They're strong and they breathe fire, which will break through most protective spells. They eat animals and their eyes are weak. They're very protective of their eggs. But I don't know how any of that is helpful." Warrington ceded the point and lapsed into thought.

"I could hit it in the eyes with some kind of curse, but a direct attack seems stupid. Dragons are easily provoked, and doing something the equivalent of poking it in the eye is...rash."

"You could transfigure something into an animal, but the dragon would still probably go after you. They prefer humans." Warrington leaned back in his chair, and closed his eyes, resting his head against the wall behind him. They were protective of their eggs, that was the point of the task... But he was good at transfiguration...

"What if I sent the dragon on a wild goose chase? Er... Dragon chase. Whatever." Pucey looked confused, so he elaborated. You know, second year when we learned to change a pebble into an egg, and McGonagall had us do Easter eggs in holiday spirit. What if I made a dragon egg out of a rock, matching the patterns of the others and then... I dunno, levitated it up so the dragon followed it. Then I could grab the other egg, the one I'm supposed to get." Pucey looked thoughtful.

"Not a bad idea. But how do you maintain the floating egg while snatching the other one? It's fine if you're just walking over, really really slowly, but picking something up..." The two relapsed into silence.

"I could kind of fling it up and hope for the best?" It didn't sound like the sort of plan he was comfortable with, and Pucey's face agreed.

"Too risky. Dragons are fast, and besides, it'll notice the missing egg" He paused, then began again. "What about this: you distract the dragon with sheep or something, then enlarge some pebbles into boulders while it's distracted, and sneak over to its nest. By then, it will have stopped caring about the sheep, so you do the egg trick but just throw it. That way you can retreat quickly to the boulders you've made after snatching the egg, and the dragon won't notice anything missing, because it'll have the same number of eggs as before." Warrington considered.

"That sounds... complicated."

"It is. But I think it's your best option. It's a lot of magic, but it plays to your strengths. The complicated bit is the Transfiguration, which I know you can do, and you literally shrink and enlarge your trunk every time you get on and off the Hogwarts express, just because it's convenient. We'll practice of course, but actually... this might work."

"It better work," Cassius replied, "because I haven't got any better ideas."

/

Andrew quite liked the idea once the other two found him, and played his part by creating different terrains and testing Cassius' ability to climb them quickly, timing him for each go, also going with him to get a muscle relief potion from Pomfrey at the end of the day.

After training, the two went to the library, Cassius reading over their copy of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, not having bothered to bring his own, as he wasn't taking a NEWT in Care of Magical Creatures.

"I can't believe Potter just up and told you what the task was. You're sure he wasn't just trying to scare you?" In that one sentence, Fawley ripped Warrington from his reading. He frowned a bit, but shrugged.

"Nah, Gryffindor chivalry and all that. I don't even know how he found out, but I believe him though. Kid looked terrified." Fawley still looked suspicious, but Warrington shrugged. "If he'd wanted to scare me, he could've looked at the historical records of the tasks. Once, the champions had to fight of the Imperius curse in time to escape from Acromantulas." He frowned. "Of course, that was before the Imperius was illegal. But still. I'll take a dragon over that any day."

"Acromantulas? Salazar, how is this tournament even legal?" Fawley looked so horrified that Warrington started to laugh, earning them a dirty glare from Madam Pince, who had, of course, chosen that moment to walk by. "Let's go," Andrew said. "You going to check that out? You could always borrow a copy from someone in the class."

"Nah, I almost finished anyway. It basically just says they look different, and that they like to eat animals and humans."

"Are you sure? 'Cause I bet Malfoy'd lend you his-" Fawley dodged the book Warrington swung at him, laughing. Warrington just rolled his eyes, putting the book back on the shelf. While he wasn't any more used to the stares, he'd grown accustomed to his friends teasing him about his so called "fan club".

"Nah, I thought I'd ask Davis. She's tried to talk to me a couple times, I'm sure she'd jump at the chance." Fawley made a face.

"Ha ha. You win this round, but don't get to cocky." Warrington smirked.

"This round? Honestly Fawley, I've no idea what you're on about." The look on Andrew's face was almost worth the flurry of birds that began chasing him through the hallway. It was worth it, in fact, until Warrington ran flat into somebody going around the corner.

"'Merlin, I'm so sorry, I was-" Suddenly, an explanation was unnecessary as the birds found their target and descended upon him and, unfortunately, the other person. He hastily reached for his wand to put up a shield charm, but was beaten to it by Marietta Edgecombe (who was, he realized, the other person), looking annoyed, if also the slightest bit amused.

"Are you sure you're the best Hogwarts has to offer? Running away from some birds?" Warrington looked at the birds still attacking the shield from the outside and shrugged.

"Clearly, you've never been in close range of Fawley's avis charm. You don't have time to react, you just run." Edgecombe raised an eyebrow, but shrugged.

"Fair enough I guess. Anyway, um, are you ready for tomorrow?" She looked like she didn't particularly want to have a conversation with someone she barely knew, which was how Warrington felt, but he appreciated the effort.

"Yeah, I think, I mean... Well, I'm as ready as I'm going to get." There was a silence, then he realized Marietta was still holding back the birds, which was why she was still there. "OH, hey, um, I can just vanish those, give me a second." For an embarrassing first try it didn't work, but after the second they were gone. "Well bye then."

"Yeah, uh...good luck tomorrow."

"Oh thanks, you too." Merlin, he hated himself. Marietta tactfully didn't say anything, instead just leaving with an awkward wave. Cassius stood there for a minute longer, then proceeded back to the common room, reflecting that he should maybe spend some more time talking to people outside of his house and the first years he tutored. One thing was certain: having a fan club definitely didn't make conversations any easier. Merlin.


	4. Chapter 4

There's nothing like an adrenaline rush to ruin breakfast. His friends contentedly eating around him, Cassius sat in relative silence, pushing the eggs around his plate.

"While I'm sure the dragon would appreciate your passing out, I would much prefer not to be the friend of the idiot who was too tired to fight one."

"Um, no thanks." Warrington looked up. "Wait, what?" Pucey rolled his eyes.

"I said eat your breakfast so the dragon doesn't eat you. And cheer up, while you're at it."

"I'm glad you feel warm and fuzzy about Cassius fighting a dragon, Adrian, but I'm pretty sure he doesn't."

"Will both of you shut up? We aren't even supposed to know about the dragon!"

"No one was listening until you said something."

"Yeah, your fan club doesn't care about us-"

"Shut it Fawley."

"That's the spirit."

And that was essentially how it ended. At least, Cassius noted, he felt a little better now, and it was with renewed spirits that he began to eat.

/

There were, Cassius figured, worse things in life than stealing an egg from a dragon. In fact, a Swedish short-snout was tame, by dragon standards. But staring the task in the face, he couldn't help but think of the school motto: draco dormiens nunquam titillandus. Never tickle a sleeping dragon. If tickling was bad, he was pretty sure stealing a baby could be filed under "suicidal". Even worse, he was first. In fact, any second now...the sharp tone of a whistle cut through Cassius' thoughts. He exited the tent, itching to steal a glance at the crowd.

"Follow the plan, follow the plan." A deep breath. "Engorgio!" Cassius spoke quietly, and some pebbles grew into boulders. Of course, that was when things started to go wrong. Because dragons aren't stupid, and this one didn't take kindly to magic near its nest. And Warrington, the culprit, was out in the open. Thanking Andrew for all of his annoying exercise, Warrington dove out of the way of the jet of fire, sprinting for the boulders. He needed to catch his breath, but there was no time. Shaking, he peered out from his hiding spot and, focusing as much as possible, turned a stone into a sheep. It wasn't much, but it confused the dragon, who seemed to decide she could use a light snack before finding him. Watching her walk away, Warrington edged closer to her nest, then, once more turning to transfiguration-McGonagall had better give him extra credit for this-he made an egg, flinging it far up into the sky where the dragon was sure to notice. As soon as she pushed off the ground to save it, Cassius covered the remaining distance, snatching the triwizard egg and running for cover.

Fortunately, he had a tight grip. Unfortunately, Pucey was right about how fast dragons were. Warrington's vision blurred as dragon fire grazed his arm, and he bit his tongue so hard that his mouth tasted like blood. Vision blurred, he covered the rest of the distance, barely registering Ludo Bagman announcing his completion. Madam Pomfrey met him immediately upon his return to the tent, tongue clicking in disapproval as she applied burn potion, clearly made in anticipation of such injuries.

"I really don't know what they're thinking, bringing dragons here. We give them their space and it works wonderfully, but these fools decide to steal eggs from a mother!" Smiling, Cassius let Pomfrey finish, then exited the tent to receive his score. Points were, of course, taken off for his injury, but overall, 37 was a respectable score, especially considering Karkaroff's obvious bias. Reentering the tent, Warrington sat quietly, exhausted as the adrenaline left him, listening to the crowd's oohs and aahs, saying little to Fleur and Krum. Potter went last, and entered the tent looking rather shaken, quickly exiting to receive his scores. When he returned, Warrington noted the broom in his hand.

"So, you flew." It wasn't much, but he figured the silence was more uncomfortable.

"Uh, yeah, I summoned the broom. You?"

"Transfiguration." In the silence that followed, Warrington studied Potter. He looked... tired. And fourteen. It struck him then, past the annoyance that Potter had been made a champion, that the kid was only fourteen. Merlin, the kid hadn't even taken his OWLs yet. He took a sharp breath, and Potter turned back to him, looking confused.

"Sorry, did you say something?"

"Um...no, I was just thinking about..." Warrington trailed off, searching for something. "the Yule Ball." Potter's eyebrows shot up, expressing no little bit of panic.

"The Yule what?"

"You didn't hear this from me, but they'll have to announce it soon anyhow. Traditionally, Hogwarts held a Yule Ball, and they're bringing it back in honor of the tournament. Snape told me because... champions have to dance. With partners." As he said it, Cassius began to feel the panic Potter's face suggested. Merlin, where was he supposed to get a partner? Sure, he talked to girls, but he wasn't sure he wanted to ask them to a ball. Nevermind, it was something to think about later.

"Nice of them to give us a heads up," Potter groaned. Warrington nearly snorted. Almost any girl, third to fifth year, he was sure, would go with Potter.

"No kidding." He figured the kid had fair reason to be nervous about it—fourteen was a scary time. Warrington was cut off from saying more by Weasley and Granger's entrance into the first aid tent, and he finally made his way out of the tent, met by Fawley, who appeared to have run from the bleachers.

"Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant. You should be higher, Krum made the dragon break its eggs. You know Durmstrang though... Karkaroff gave him a ten."

"Chocolate frog card worthy. Really, fantastic. I guess all the first years you tutored really taught you something about Transfig, huh?" Pucey was doing his best to sound unimpressed, but Cassius grinned, seeing through it.

"It was pretty good, wasn't it?"

"Mr. Warrington, the champions are needed inside the tent." It was Bagman, the ministry bloke. Warrington was pretty sure his father had complained about him, but couldn't think what for. Shrugging, he waved to his friends and followed.

"I'll arrange a party tonight! All your favorites-I'm sure Malfoy will be happy to offer advice!" He was pretty sure Andrew said more, but at this point, Cassius decided to tune him out.

/

"I officially hate every person in this house." Cassius flopped onto his bed, exhausted. "I saw at least five different people spike the butterbeer with different alcohols. One of them was a third year."

"You're just mad that they ruined the flavor," Pucey said, rolling his eyes. "Don't act like you don't like the attention, just a little."

Warrington grinned. "Alright, maybe a little. But so do you two. And you're doing nothing to dissuade Malfoy." He sat up, looking Pucey in the eye. "Yesterday, I heard him encouraging a group of second years to continue their autobiographical play about my life. Does that idea sound familiar?" Pucey shrugged.

"I never told them to write a play. I recommended a song. You should really be thanking them."

"Salazar, you two do not know how to party. Even Bagley is still out, and he's our prefect."

"Yet you're here with us, not out there. What's wrong, Fawley, Davis dump you?" Warrington laughed at the indignation on his friend's face.

"I come here, leaving the party that I set up, mind you, to talk to you two losers, and you mock me? Alas for the death of chivalry."

Pucey looked up from the parchment he had begun to write on. "Fawley, stop trying to use big words. You're giving me more of a headache than this thing already did." Making a face, Andrew walked over and picked up the golden egg Warrington had set on his side table.

"Useful, this is. I personally love screaming eggs."

"There's got to be a-"

"Way to hear an actual message, yeah. I'm not an idiot, Cassius." Fawley shot him a scathing look. "Look, I know Adrian is the smart one, but come on. If you have to hear a message, and you can't, you have to change the way you're hearing it."

Warrington considered this, eyebrows raising. "You mean, listening to it through something that sound travels differently in. Encasing it in something, like how you hear differently in the greenhouses with earmuffs on."

"Water." Pucey had obviously given up on his paper, whatever it had been. The other two turned back to him. "Sound travels differently through water, it's the most logical answer. You'll need a body of water big enough that you can be totally submerged."

"So what, I'm supposed to jump in the lake when it's almost December? Yeah, there's no way that's going to happen."


	5. Chapter 5

It was nearly December, it was after midnight, and the lake was freezing. Cassius was pretty sure his friends just wanted him to die of hypothermia, because his idea of getting the password to the prefects bath had been much saner. But no, "too much of a risk of someone walking in on you" they said. Yeah right, what kind of prefect was out of bed after curfew?

Shrugging off his jumper, Cassius waded into the lake holding his egg, wary of the Durmstrang boat still docked on the other shore. He figured that maybe, if he focused on that, the cold wouldn't get to him as much. So far, no luck. The water was barely up to his waist and he was already shaking like mad. Taking a deep breath, he lowered himself to a sitting position then, placing the egg underwater, opened it. Faintly, music drifted up from the water. Preparing for the shock, Cassius closed his eyes and went under. A voice, obviously mid song, flowed gently to his ears- "an hour, the prospect's black, too late, it's gone, it won't come back." Here, the voice paused, then began at what Cassius assumed was the beginning of the song. "Come seek us where our voices sound; we cannot sing above the ground. And while you're searching ponder this: we've taken what you'll sorely miss, an hour long you'll have to-" coming up for air, Warrington shook his head, then went back down, getting the final piece ("an hour long you'll have to look, to discover what we took. But past an hour, prospect's black, too late, it's gone, it won't come back." He pieced the three together- come seek us, we cannot sing above the ground, they took something he'd miss and he had an hour to find it or it was gone. Got it. He listened a few times more to be memorize it, then got out of the water as quickly as possible, replacing the jumper after using a quick heating charm.

Focusing on the words of the song, a song that felt familiar, somehow, Warrington almost didn't notice Mrs. Norris' stare. Eyes widening as she ran away, he quickly determined that the nearest outpost was the kitchens. Practically sprinting (and, once again, grateful for Fawley's training, not that he'd ever admit it), Warrington reached up, tickled the pear, and disappeared into the kitchens.

At waist level, many heads turned to look at him. Higher up was one, behind a tray loaded with pastries. Warrington raised an eyebrow, and the offending party made a face.

"The Wasps finally won a match, excuse me for wanting to celebrate a bit with my friends."

"No, no, I understand. I just didn't know Ravenclaws snuck out. And... isn't your friend a Tornadoes fan?" Edgecombe wrinkled her nose.

"Don't blame me for bad taste. And I didn't know Hogwarts Champions snuck out. Or is that one of your 'special allowances'?" Her hands didn't move, but the sarcasm behind the last words was enough for Cassius to feel the air quotes.

"If it were, would I be here avoiding Filch?" Worry clouded Edgecombe's face.

"Rowena, is he out? Michael promised he'd be stuck in the cupboard for at least an hour. Prick." Warrington shrugged, unconcerned.

"Some Gryff will be out late anyway, and he'll have to deal with that. It's been about five minutes anyhow, he's probably moved on." She looked unconvinced, and Cassius struggled not to roll his eyes. Obviously, in spite of her attitude, Edgecombe didn't sneak out much. She had no clue what Filch's schedule was like. "Fine. I'll prove it." Shifting the egg to one hand, he grabbed a pastry. "Cheers." With that, he headed out the door.

/

Warrington needed to figure out a date soon, or he was in trouble, if the next two days were anything to judge by. Since the announcement of the Yule Ball, no less than forty girls had asked him—some he didn't know, some he wished he didn't. The most problematic of these was at lunch, the day after the ball was announced, when Tracey Davis whispered to him that her dress would look absolutely gorgeous with his eyes. Of course, Fawley had overheard, and the wrong idea had been gotten, and, fourteen proposals later, Warrington had closed himself in the Owlery, the only place he could think to go where no one would find him. He could have, at a normal time, gone to his dormitory, but (on account of the Tracey Davis situation), Andrew wasn't speaking to him.

"He'll come around," Pucey assured him. It wasn't that he and his friends had never fought-in fact, the fight itself wasn't even Cassius' biggest concern. He was beginning to realize that his being champion was changing their small group, ever so slightly. Usually, Adrian provided the ideas and motivation and Andrew the charm. In other words, Pucey was the brains, Fawley was the face. Cassius was the middle ground, talking them down when strong personalities clashed, reeling Pucey in from his more far-fetched ideas and knocking Fawley off his high horse every once in a while. But now that was different. Adrian was content to work in the background still, and Andrew honestly didn't mind sharing the glory. But slowly, it had chipped away, and his almost-girlfriend almost-asking one of his best friends on a date had been the breaking point. That wasn't something you just 'came around from'.

But what could he say? "I'm sorry your girl asked me to the Ball" didn't seem to cut it, but he could hardly take the blame for it. He had never even talked to Tracey, aside from a few words here and there when she was hanging around Andrew.

So he had decided to get another date in the meantime, so that nothing else blew up. As he fed his owl treats, Cassius made a mental list of female friends who weren't dating anyone and he would have fun with. He ended up with a list of four: Zoe Accrington and Amy Frome, 6th years, and their two fifth year friends, Scarlett Lympsham and Nerissa Brody. Scar and Riss he knew from pick up quidditch matches, and often went to one or the other if Andrew was too busy for a two on two match. Zoe and Amy had, of course, been in his classes for years, and they often came to Hogsmeade with the Warrington and his friends. He was pretty sure Scar was about to be asked by one of the Ravenclaws in her year, but he wasn't positive. Taking a deep breath, Cassius turned to leave the Owlery, deciding that running away from his problems wasn't going to help, and, deciding to face the roommate situation first, he headed for the common room.

/

"Have you LOST your MIND? You can't- She's not- Bloody HELL Pucey, she's a Gryffindor!" Warrington stopped short, viewing the scene in front of him. Adrian, sitting down, looked annoyed. Andrew, standing in front of him, looked ready to break through the glass into the lake. The lake... why did that feel important? Oh well, he'd worry about it later.

"Warrington, talk some sense into him. Please." Fawley had turned to Cassius, looking desparate. So this was what Pucey had meant by 'He'll come around'. He had meant 'I'll do one worse'.

"Umm... so you have a date?" The eye roll he received in return made him want to laugh, but he pushed it down in the seriousness of the moment.

"As I have just told dear Andrew, yes, I do have a date. Alicia Spinnet. Yes, she is a Gryffindor. Yes, she is your quidditch rival. No, I will not change dates." Warrington blinked. Alicia Spinnet. Huh. He hadn't seen that one coming, he would admit.

"That's... nice, I guess. How do you even know her? And... um... don't you, y'know... disagree about a lot?" Pucey shrugged. Fawley looked like he had wanted to ask the same questions, and had actually stopped pacing to hear the answer.

"We're partners for a project in runes. We agree on enough, and we don't need to talk politics at the ball. I'm not planning on marrying her, dating her, or snogging her, just going to a dance." Andrew sighed, accepting the fact that Adrian was much more stubborn than he was.

"I'm going to be the only one without a date, aren't I?" With that, he turned to leave. Warrington quickly thought about it then shrugged.

"I mean, you could always ask Zoe." Fawley paused, turning back.

"I could... actually, yeah. Yeah, I think I will. I'll need flowers, lots of them..." continuing to mutter plans, he retreated to the dormitory. Cassius turned back to Pucey.

"So, Spinnet, huh? Never would have guessed."

"It was a bit spur of the moment, but I didn't want to go alone, and it'll be fun at least. Worst that can happen, we have a huge fight and at least I come away with a memorable experience." Cassius snorted.

"Your optimism is truly inspiring." Pucey grinned.

"At least I have a date. I assumed you'd go with Zoe, but I guess not?" Cassius shrugged, knowing his friend's question was really 'who are you going to the ball with?'

"I was thinking I'd ask Nerissa tomorrow. We get along well, and no one will think I'm secretly snogging her because they know we're just friends." Adrian considered, and nodded his approval.

"You'll have fun with her. You two might annoy the hell out of everyone else, but you'll enjoy it. and andrew won't get mad." Grinning at the eyeroll he was met with, Pucey picked up the book he had, presumably, been reading when Fawley had started to shout at him. Cassius headed for the dormitory, deciding to go to the library and get to work on the charms essay, considering it was due tomorrow. As he reached the stairs, he heard a throat clear behind him. He turned. It was a second year. Oh, Salazar, please not here.

"Our play begins in a dungeon, green light cast over everything-"

(Whispered) "Those are the stage cues you idiot! Don't read those!"

"Right, I knew that." The kid cleared his throat and sat on the ground. "My name is Cassius. I play quidditch and tutor people, and I want to be the best champion Hogwarts has ever had. But I'm never going to get a chance."

Cassius worked very hard to not close his eyes in pain as the story of his years of aspiring to be a champion and never receiving the chance were acted out in front of him. Salazar have mercy, why had he turned around. Why? He tried to tune the second years out, feigning interest while studying the lake window.

"I will do it! I will be the champion of Hogwarts and steal the dragon's egg!" The dragon's egg? The lake, and the dragon's egg, and the song. Above the ground, we cannot sing above the ground.

"Merpeople!" The second years paused, confused and a bit offended. Cassius looked at them guiltily. "I'm sorry, it's just... You're brilliant, that was brilliant, thank you so much. I just need to go work on the clue." The second years looked doubtful, but no longer offended, which Warrington figured was as good as it would get. Not bothering to grab his parchment (he could write at breakfast), Warrington hurried for the library. Because if he was right, he would need some magic if he was going to come out of the next task without looking like an idiot.


	6. Chapter 6

Warrington's first thought upon walking into breakfast two mornings later was how grateful he was that he wasn't trying to impress Nerissa. While he liked to think that he could be romantic when he wanted, he had no intention of wooing his friend. Accordingly, their conversation the morning before had been brief:

"Hey, Riss, do you want to go to the ball with me?" She'd looked a bit worried, and clarified.

"As friends, you mean?" When he nodded, she'd considered. "It does sound like fun, and I'd much rather go with a friend than alone. I mean sure, Zoe will be there, but there's no way she'll talk to me if she has a date. And if neither of us do, she'll make me talk to the French boys, which is worse." Warrington had grinned.

"Glad to know I'm better than nothing."

"Shut up you prat, or you'll be dancing alone tomorrow. And I'll take plenty of pictures that you can look back on in the years to come." They'd made a few plans and said goodbye. All in all, it had been a friendly exchange. But if he'd waited until today... well, he didn't think he could've gotten away with that after this.

The entirety of the right hand wall in the great hall was covered in leafy plants, from which stood out in white roses a message:

Beautiful and smart

Light shining through a window

Zoe Accrington

It was cheesy, yes, but Cassius was pretty sure Zoe would love it. Andrew stood by the wall casually, as if this was an everyday activity for him. Pucey came to sit by Warrington and whistled.

"Do you think he realizes he's making life hell for anyone who still has to ask a girl? It's been casual until now but…" Cassius laughed and started to respond, but was interrupted by a commotion over by the wall. Adrian and Cassius turned in time to see Zoe hugging Andrew as her friends surrounded them.

"Should I be offended that you didn't even give me an individual rose?" Nerissa sat down beside Cassius and he turned to her, laughing.

"I'm pretty sure that's your call, not mine."  
"Well," Nerissa mocked deep thought. "Since I'm not exactly into public humiliation, I think I'm good."

"Humiliation? This is poetry." Adrian gestured to the wall, where Fawley and Zoe still stood. "Literally. He insisted on haiku. 'You don't understand, Pucey, it's the most natural form of poetry' or something."

Warrington pushed back his plate and stood up, grabbing the book bag he'd brought with him. "Well, nice to talk to you, I'm headed to the library." Nerissa shrugged and turned to Pucey, and as Warrington left he heard their conversation turn to a discussion of whether or not Fawley's demonstration would raise the expectations of the other girls.

Cassius planned to take the most direct path to the library, but paused when he saw Potter and his friends walking to breakfast. Telling Potter anything would lose him any edge he may have by figuring out the clue. On the other hand… there was no way he could've handled the dragon as well without Potter's clue, and he didn't want to be in his debt. Of course, Granger and Weasley wouldn't be thrilled about him talking to Potter… He continued on his way. It would be better to catch him alone sometime, he figured, but he didn't see any way around it without feeling, somehow, like he'd be playing unfairly.

/

"You aren't holding your wand right," Cassius said thoughtfully, leaning over the bookshelf in front of Marietta. Surprised, she looked up.

"Rowena, Warrington, don't do that. And I know how to hold my wand, thank you very much." Warrington raised an eyebrow, and she glanced to her right before beckoning him over. Walking around the shelf, he came to her table and sat down across from her.

"First of all, let me say that I'm telling you this so you leave me alone, and if you say anything about it, ever, even to me, I will prove I know how to hold my wand when I use it to hex you." Warrington almost laughed, but nodded in agreement. Marietta narrowed her eyes, then continued in a low voice, very quickly. "I'm trying to get someone to help me, so that when he comes over, he might talk to me and ask me to the ball." Warrington's eyebrows shot up.

"You're trying to trick someone into going to the ball with you?"

"Shut up!" she hissed. "I'm not tricking him, I just want a shot, okay? I'd ask him myself, but that's not how things are done, or whatever." Warrington looked to his left, at the table Marietta had glanced at.

"Who is that?"

"Carl Hopkins. My year. He's a Gryffindor and he's soo nice and we're kind of friends but there's no way he's going to ask me to the ball."

"Okayy…" Warrington paused, thinking. "Well, I'm not exactly the best relationship counselor, but couldn't you just go talk to him? That seems more… normal? And then you can just bring up the ball." She looked at him, not speaking. "Come on, you aren't scared are you?" She blinked slowly at him as though he was the most idiotic person in the world. "Okay so maybe it's a little hard to talk to someone you're into, but you aren't asking to make out in a broom cupboard or something. Just go." Glancing over one more time, Marietta sighed.  
"Fine, you're right I'll go. But if this screws everything up, I'm blaming you." Cassius watched her walk over, then looked down at her book, Charms for the Explorer. Flipping through it absently, Cassius thought it seemed pretty basic, information about various lighting charms for caves, warming charms for mountains, and charms for breathing underwater—at this point he flipped back a few pages. In annoyingly peppy writing, and with far too many exclamation points (why did anyone think that made books better?), the book talked about the Bubble Head charm, mentioning partial transfiguration and Gillyweed as possible alternatives for it. Scooping up the book, Warrington walked over to Madam Pince and checked it out, figuring that Edgecombe could yell at him later. Anyway, he noted with a grin, she and Carl Hopkins looked to be getting along just fine.

/

"So you want to transfigure yourself into some kind of fish so that you can breathe underwater." Warrington shrugged, meeting Fawley's skeptical look. "I mean, if that's what you want to do, go for it. It just seems like the Bubble Head charm makes more sense. Your vision won't be changed underwater, and more importantly, you won't have to worry about getting stuck as fish head boy."

"Gillyweed still makes the most sense to me, but you wanted to show your prowess or whatever." Adrian was not a little grumpy at his recommendation being ignored, and was refusing to take part in the discussion any further, or so he said (in reality, he simply refused to respond to the other two, and was still saying quite a bit). Cassius shot Pucey an annoyed look before turning back to Fawley.

"Okay, the fish head part is stupid, because I'm not going to get stuck." Fawley looked skeptical, but Warrington pressed on. "The vision though… you may have a point. I said you may-" Andrew looked almost gleeful.

"You said I was right. No, no taking it back, you said it and that's that. I'm right." Warrington ceded the point, figuring an argument on whether uncertainty in a response took away from a claim of correctness or not wasn't, at that moment, worth it.

"Well, it's better than transfiguring yourself at any rate." Pucey finally broke and decided to (officially) rejoin the conversation. "We can practice that later, but for now, let's take advantage of… well, your advantage."

"My advantage? Tell me more, because I'm a fan of those."

"Cassius, come on. We have a giant window into the lake, the place you're going to have to navigate, in the middle of our common room."

"That's great, in theory. But we only see part of the lake, and not very far. It's not as if I can just ask the next merperson who pops by, seeing as, y'know, they can't respond." Pucey rolled his eyes.

"Obviously. My point is that we know where they aren't, and if we watch where they come from or go, we can probably get a general idea, and maybe figure out a charm to track them." Fawley shrugged, glancing at Warrington.

"Better than nothing, right?" Slowly, Warrington nodded. "Excellent. We can do that later, but for now, you're going to help me drag Pucey away from his novel, thrilling though I'm sure it is, so we can get some snacks from the kitchen. I'm starving and dinner isn't for another hour."


	7. Chapter 7

Warrington's days had begun to feel rather like cycles. He would get up go to classes, watch for merpeople in the common room while reading up on bubble head charms and path finding charms (finding, in the process, a rather handy one nicknamed Ariadne's string) in the afternoons, practice non-verbal spell casting with Pucey in the evenings, come in to work on homework, sleep, and start over. His friends (even, surprisingly, Andrew) were busy preparing for their end of term exams, but, being exempt, Cassius found himself with a considerable amount of freetime, and few people to spend it with. He had run into Marietta a few more times, and was surprised by the realization that, at some point, they had sort of become friends. Even her friends were starting to acknowledge him, although Carl Hopkins wouldn't spend much time with him ("It's not you, mate, it's just that you're going against Potter in the Tournament, and if the Gryffindors don't support him, well, not many will be."), not that it mattered too much to him.

In general, Cassius had begun to feel that he had more friends outside of Slytherin than he had before, something he'd been convinced was because of his position as Hogwarts champion. When he'd mentioned this to Marietta, she'd laughed at him.

"Sure, Warrington. It's because you're champion, not because you're actually talking to people." He'd been offended. He'd always talked to people, in class at least. Outside of class, he'd been busy with Quidditch, or talking to his own friends… Either way, it was a nice change, and all in all, he figured there were worse cycles than the one he was in. Still, the thought that he still needed to tell Potter about the egg, at least check and make sure he knew about it still nagged him, which is why, just after breakfast a week after first considering telling Potter about the egg, he found himself leaving breakfast early.

"Hey, Potter!" Weasley was the first to turn around, looking ready to pull out his wand, but Potter soon turned as well, by which time Cassius had caught up to them. Potter was looking at him questioningly, and Cassius quickly regretted not figuring out how to begin the conversation. "Uh… how're you doing with the clue? Does yours scream too?"

Still looking a bit confused, Potter nodded. "It broke open a few nights ago-not a fun wake up call." Weasley laughed beside Potter.

"Seamus nearly wet the bed," he said between laughs, then coughed as though remembering who they were talking to.

"Um… why do you ask?"

Warrington paused, then decided to dive right in. "Well, you helped me with the first task, so I figured that if you hadn't solved this one, maybe I could help you, somehow?" It had started out as rambling, but somewhere turned into a question as he read confusion, and slight surprise, in Potter's eyes.

"Have you solved it then? The screaming?" Cassius nodded.

"Then you haven't." Potter didn't say anything, which Cassius took as a yes. Looking around to make sure Fleur and Krum weren't nearby, he continued in a lower voice. "Look, go to the baths, or the lake, or somewhere with water, and put it under, then listen to it." Potter looked skeptical, and Cassius held up his hands, returning to normal volume. "Listen, I'm just trying to make it even. You helped me with the dragon, I'm helping you with this. We helped each other, and the playing field will be even for the third task." Potter looked him over, then nodded once.

"Thanks, then. Good luck, I guess."

"You too." Potter and Weasley turned around, heading, Warrington noticed, in a different direction than before, no doubt to find Granger. Conscience relieved, he turned toward the dungeons to get his Transfiguration supplies, finding his path blocked.

"Um, excuse me Professor. I was just heading down to my dorm…" As he spoke, Cassius got the uncomfortable feeling, as he always did when talking to the Professor, that Moody was looking through him rather than just at him.

"That was very decent of you, Warrington." Warrington blinked.

"Um… thank you?" Moody laughed at his hesitation, not a particularly pleasant sound.

"You don't like me much, do you. Heard some nasty stories at home?" Cassius had, in fact, heard a number of complaints about the auror, but he only shook his head. Moody laughed again, and limped off to the Great Hall without another word. Deciding that two awkward conversations were really enough for one morning, Cassius rushed off to the dorm, not bothering to stop and chat with anyone else.

/

The library was not the place Cassius had planned to be an hour before the Yule Ball. Someone, he thought (not for the first time that night), really should have taught Jack Bagley how much cologne was too much before now. Cassius, Andrew, and Adrian had been searching through charms books for at least 25 minutes while their roommate sat off to the side dejectedly. None of the normal odor removal charms had worked, which Cassius suspected was because of the magical nature of the cologne in question.

"Salazar, Bagley, could you have chosen a worse time?" Fawley had been grudging in his agreement to aid.

"Or chosen a stronger one?" Pucey had also been reluctant to help, insisting that it would be simpler to just ask Professor Flitwick, a solution Jack had ruled out on the grounds that it would be entirely too humiliating. Cassius exhaled slowly, standing up and looking Bagley with what pity he could muster after the search.

"Come on then. We're out of time. It's Flitwick or nothing." Jack gave in reluctantly, standing with the other three and walking out of the library. Ten minutes later, all four were back in their dorm, smelling normal, and getting ready.

"Yes, it's all gone Bagley, or we wouldn't have let you back, trust me."

"Merlin, Fawley, haven't you looked at yourself enough?"

"Let me charm your robes, Warrington, Rissa's dress is darker than that and she'll want to match."

"Your robes are plenty long enough, Pucey, we all know you haven't grown since third year—ow!"

Cassius laughed and rubbed his arm as Adrian turned away again, glanced in the mirror one last time, and went to the common room, watching some third years play exploding snap. Five or so minutes later, Andrew, Zoe, Nerissa, and Adrian had joined him, Jack having already headed over to the Hufflepuff dorms to pick up his date. Chatting and laughing, they headed to the entry hall, where they met Alicia Spinnet. Top Warrington's surprise, Zoe and Nerissa immediately went to talk to her, and all three began to compliment each other, wondering if they knew each other at all, or if it was just a thing girls did.

"Mr. Warrington, Miss Brody, if you'll join us over here please." The two waved to their friends, who entered the hall, and went to line up along the wall, where Fleur already stood with Roger Davies.

"They're right you know, you do look really nice tonight." Nerissa laughed and pushed Cassius lightly.

"A little late, aren't you?"

"I mean, you still haven't told me I look nice. I spent a whole thirty minutes fighting Andrew for a look in the mirror." She raised an eyebrow.

"Thirty minutes was it? That explains a lot." She wrinkled her nose as she looked at him, but the twitching corner of her mouth gave her away and, meeting his eyes, she couldn't stop the grin from emerging. Potter walked over soon after they did, introducing his date as Parvati Patil. They had all stood awkwardly for a few minutes when Parvati inhaled sharply.  
"Is that Hermione?" They all followed her eyes to the couple walking towards them, which was, in fact, Hermione Granger and Viktor Krum. This was apparently a sensational surprise, because the two Gryffindors hurried over to meet them (or rather, Parvati pulled a surprised looking Harry over), and began to talk earnestly.

"What's that about?" Cassius whispered to Nerissa.

"I guess they're just surprised Granger came with Krum. She does have a reputation of practically living in the library, you know, and he's a professional athlete. Also," she said after a pause, "I think she's done something to her hair."

"Didn't you all?" Nerissa looked like she was about to laugh again, although Cassius didn't quite understand why.

"I guess we did, didn't— oh, there's McGonagall back." Cassius faced forward as the two pairs returned, and entered the Great Hall under the eyes of all of his classmates.

/

As he walked to the punch table, Cassius looked around the Hall. Marietta was dancing with Carl Hopkins and Andrew with Zoe, and, perhaps the weirdest combination of people, Alicia and Adrian talking to one of the Weasley twins, Angelina Johnson, Jack Bagley, and Patricia Stimpson. He saw Weasley and Potter sitting down a little ahead of him, Parvati Patil by Harry, and someone, who he assumed (by the identical annoyed looks on their faces) was her sister, by Ron. Cassius winced inwardly at the awkward situation, deciding to stay far away from that area of the Hall for a while. Grabbing the punch, he walked back to Nerissa just in time to hear the opening chords of "Do The Hippogriff".

"I know I just got these, but there's no way we're not dancing to this." Voicing her agreement, she got up, and the two joined the mob of dancers in the middle of the floor, singing along with everyone else, jumping and laughing and spinning around to the lyrics of the song.

Oh! Can you dance like a hippogriff?

Na na na ma ma ny na na ny na

Flyin' off from a cliff

Na na na ma ma ny na na ny na

Swooping down to the ground

Na na na ma ma ny na na ny na

Wheel around and around and around and around

Na na na ma ma ny na na

Cassius nearly fell over from dizziness, laughing as he and Nerissa stumbled back to their seats, where they were promptly joined by Andrew and Zoe, and Adrian's whole lot. Everyone chatted, getting along remarkably well, and, for just the night, Cassius found himself forgetting about the stress of the tournament and talking more about the possibility that someone had spiked the punch, and what the effect would be on the fourth years; forgetting about interhouse conflicts and learning instead how the Hufflepuffs got food from the conveniently located kitchens for all of their parties and becoming eager at the idea of the joke shop whichever Weasley twin this was (he thought Fred, but it seemed too late in the conversation to ask) told them about his and his brother's plans for.

That night (or was it early morning?) he felt that his bed had never been so comfortable, his stomach so full, his throat so sore from laughter, and he himself so content.


	8. Chapter 8

"So, can you turn a matchstick into a needle?" The first year nodded, looked slightly offended, but offended seemed like a better position than nearly in tears, so Cassius decided he would take it. "What do you picture, when you do that?"

"The needle." The first year looked confused now. Turning matchsticks into needles was good and well, but turning a statue into a bird was entirely different.

"Exactly, you have to picture the end result. What color the feathers are, the shape of the beak, everything. But it's trickier than that, do you know why?"

"Because the bird's alive?"

"Right again! So when you picture your bird, picture it doing something, like singing, or hopping around, and then— Avifors—" Cassius waved his wand, a small robin appearing in place of one of the statues sitting in front of them, hopping around the desk. "Do you think you've got it?" The first year (Cassius really had to remember the kid's) nodded hesitantly, and focused on the other statue.

"Avifors!" A blue jay appeared, very nearly correct. It would have been perfect, in fact, if it weren't for the fact that it had very small human legs rather than legs of a normal bird. Trying very hard not to laugh, Warrington instead nodded encouragingly, turning to the younger boy.

"Closer, that's loads better than earlier! Keep practicing that, er… Nigel, was it?" Nigel (Cassius was rather proud of himself for remembering) nodded, looking considerably happier, although still not quite satisfied (due, Cassius was fairly sure, to the legs). Warrington undid the transfigurations and returned the statues to the storage shelf, allowing himself to laugh at the bird, now that Nigel was gone. He'd been so caught up in studying the lake and looking into the clue that he'd barely done any tutoring, and had forgotten how much he enjoyed it. Seeing someone break through a block was satisfying in itself, but the transformations like these were better. He laughed harder as he recalled the time the year before that a first year, mishearing his instructions during review, had turned a mouse into a giant toy box, telling him crankily that she had made a stuff-box, and she didn't know what was so funny about it.

"You know, some people say laughing alone is a sign of insanity." The dry voice cut through Warrington's laughs as its owner looked on from the doorway.

"What can I say? I'm able to find joy in the simpler things in life. Are you here for tutoring? 'Cause I only do fourth year and down, McGonagall likes the seventh years to do anyone else."

"Like I would come to you for help." Marietta grinned as she said it, and Cassius only rolled his eyes. "I came to find you. The Hufflepuffs are having a party tonoight to celebrate Elora Dunn's birthday— you know, since she's head girl—and Patty Stimpson wanted to invite Jack what's-his-name, the one in your year, but didn't want him to feel alone, so she decided to invite all of your lot, since she apparently talked to you all at the Yule Ball." Cassius blinked at this overload of information, which seemed much too complicated.

"I don't even know Elora Dunn. And wait, why are you telling me? You aren't even a Hufflepuff, it isn't even your party!"

"Well yeah, but Trudy Galston knew that I knew you, so she told Patty that she'd ask me to talk to you, since it is the fifth years setting up the party, so they have final say on any out of house visitors."

"And so Patricia couldn't just ask Jack sometime? I mean, I think they're literally in the library right now." Marietta shrugged, and Cassius shook his head. "And you people say Slytherins are confusing. Hufflepuff politics are the ones that don't make any sense. I'll talk to the others though, I'll see Andrew at five, for some two-on-two." Marietta nodded, then looked at her watch.

"It's 5:05."

"Merlin, Fawley is going to kill me." Cassius headed out the door of the classroom, waving at Marietta, who looked very much like she wanted to laugh, but was being polite enough to hold it in.

/

"So that explains why Jack is going, but I still don't get why I'm expected to be there. With a load of Hufflepuffs." Andrew made a face at the last word, as if being Hufflepuff was a deadly disease, which Warrington didn't quite understand, but was unsurprised by.

"Better than a load of Gryffindors," Pucey pointed out. Andrew opened his mouth to argue, but then shrugged instead, acquiescing the point. "And, as Warrington's just told us, we've been invited so Jack isn't the only Slytherin. And, at Warrington neglected to say, and probably hasn't realized, because being Hogwarts champion has its perks—" Warrington spluttered indignantly, but Pucey pushed on—"and those perks happen to include being invited to parties. We, as his friends, just get to go along for the ride."

"Works out nicely for us, doesn't it? Thanks, mate." On saying the latter, he turned to Warrington with a grin. "Almost makes up for the fact that you were fifteen minutes late to pickup tonight."

"Fawley, I've just explained—" Cassius broke off as Andrew laughed, rolling his eyes. "Salazar, would you grow up." In spite of himself, Cassius cracked a smile. He'd been on edge lately, worried about the second task, spending every spare minute trying to figure out where the merpeople lived, taking notes on the different creatures that he saw, then proceeding to look them up and find spells to fight them, if needed. And trying to figure out what the merpeople would take…Cassius blinked realizing Pucey and Fawley were looking worriedly at him from across the table. He forced the smile back onto his face, determined not to think about the task for at least the rest of the night. "Don't eat too much, now. We've got a party tonight, and I've heard the Puffs throw ragers."

"Yeah, we know Warrington, we were at the Yule Ball too." Adrian rolled his eyes, then flinched backward as Cassius hit him in the face with an impeccably aimed kernel of corn, causing Andrew to dissolve into laughter. Cassius smiled to himself, giving Adrian his best look of innocence as he raised his glass of pumpkin juice to his lips. Yeah, a night without thinking about any of the tournament sounded pretty okay.

/

For being stereotyped as the nice house, Hufflepuffs were blunt. A little too blunt, if you asked Cassius, who was sitting, Butterbeer in hand, staring at the one in front of him. He was honestly at a loss for words. It didn't happen often, but for the life of him, he couldn't think of what to say when a boy who couldn't be older than fourteen came up and asked if he believed in "that blood purity crap", and if so, why he'd come to mix with "the lesser race—I've heard muggleborns are contagious." So instead, he was just staring.

"Well?" At this prompting, Cassius scowled and stood up, walking to the other side of the common room, where a window was letting a slight breeze in. He had the feeling that his new friends would've been disappointed in him, felt that he should have been able to say "of course not!" Right away. But he couldn't, could he?

The Warringtons were an old wizarding family, along with the Fawleys and the Puceys. He'd grown up alongside Andrew and Adrian, been taught that his blood gave him an advantage. To call someone a mudblood hadn't been seen as wrong, although he had been taught to never use it in the presence of "outsiders"—anyone who his parents weren't friends with. But then, fifth year, Bagley'd gotten the prefects badge. The half-blood. He shouldn't have been surprised, but he was, a bit. His parents had said it was just Dumbledore's prejudice, but Cassius had silently disagreed. Jack had earned the badge through hard work. At the time, he'd written it off as the purer side of him winning out. But now…this year, he'd been helped by Harry Potter, the most Gryffindor of the Gryffs, become friends with Marietta, a half-blood, and had even begun to think that the Weasley twins weren't so bad, in spite of the fact that they were from the biggest family of blood traitors in the wizarding world. But he couldn't just turn his back on all of the years of tradition. Of respect for magic, of family spells, handed down from generation to generation. No, Cassius had been taught to fight for the right to believe what he wanted.

"I don't know what I want to believe." The words came out in a whisper, too quiet for anyone to hear over the party music. Cassius didn't want to become an honorary Weasley, a poster child for a new beginning. But he wasn't blind. He'd seen the tattoos on the forearms of his and his friends' fathers, seen the robes hanging in the back of the closet. He'd heard the nervous whispers, the fearful mutterings about the possibility of the return of a master who was to be feared. And he was sure he didn't want that either.

Maybe, if he'd not been in Slytherin, it would've been easier. But he was, and he was proud of it. Proud of the house that had helped shape him into someone worthy of being a Hogwarts champion, and not quite ready to make a decision that would shake that pillar of strength to the very core. It felt disloyal.

Cassius drained the rest of his Butterbeer with no small amount of frustration. He'd come here to get his mind off of his troubles, not to introduce new ones. To make matters worse, Stimpson hadn't been lying—the party was a good one. Dishes of food seemed never to run out, music was playing loudly, the drinks table held everything from Butterbeer to Ogden's Finest to potions that made the drinker breathe fire or float to the vaulted ceiling in bubbles of various colors. Tables floated in the air, with broomsticks on the sides of the rooms to access them, clearing the majority of the floor for dancing.

"You look on the verge of a wistful sigh, and I can't have you ruining our reputation as cold assholes, so I thought you could use something stronger." Adrian held out a glass of what Cassius supposed was firewhiskey, and he took it. "For someone who was so intent on coming tonight, you look downright morose. So what's up?" There was a laugh in Adrian's voice, and Cassius was pretty sure his friend didn't have any idea what he was getting himself into.

"Have you ever wondered where we'll stand?"

"What?" Cassius took a deep breath, deciding whether or not to dive into this conversation.

"We've both seen the signs. The Dark Lord is coming back. I don't know how, or when, but when he does, where will we stand?" Adrian closed his eyes and swallowed, but before he could comment, Cassius pressed on. "I mean, there's no way they'll trust us." He gestured to the crowd as he spoke. "They'd be crazy to. But what are our choices then. Because I don't think we'll be allowed to stand with them, but for Merlin's sake, I sure as hell don't want to stand against them."

"Even though they'd stand against you in a heartbeat? Even though, for all their proclaimed courage, they'd be too cowardly to let you stand with them?" Adrian's words cut through Cassius like a knife, and both boys fell silent for a moment.

"Yes. Even then." As he said it, a shiver ran down Warrington's spine. Adrian nodded.

"Then I guess our only option is to stay out of it, yeah?" Warrington raised an eyebrow.

"Our?" Adrian gave a twisted smile.

"If you think I could shoot a spell at my classmates any easier than you, you don't know me as well as I thought."

"Fawley could." The words were out before Warrington had really thought about it. Adrian pursed his lips, but didn't argue. Cassius wished he would, wished Adrian would tell him that that was ridiculous, that Andrew might care about blood status, but wouldn't fight anyone over it, wouldn't hurt someone for being having muggle parents. But he didn't.

"I guess we'll just have to change his mind, then." Cassius' frown deepened, and he pretended that the burning feeling that had overtaken his head was the fire whiskey he sipped and not the tears he was holding back. Beside him, he heard Adrian snort, a sound which quickly turned into a chuckle, then full out laughter.

"Salazar, Pucey, there's a time and a place!" Adrian only laughed harder. Cassius was at a loss for words, looking at his usually composed friend, seeing a side of him that rarely emerged.

"Sorry, sorry, it's just… If someone'd told me a week ago that I'd be at a party in the Hufflepuff common room talking to you about the political problems that arise from blood purity, I'd have told them it was a load of dragon dung." Adrain gave another chuckle, and Cassius cracked a smile. It was true, it wasn't a situation he ever would've imagined.

"Maybe it's something about the common room. The Hufflepuff-ness is rubbing off on us or something."

"What, we're catching some kind of disease? The huffle Puffs?" The pun was awful, and Cassius groaned, which made Pucey laugh again, and the two grabbed some brooms, got some food, and found their third friend. And although everything wasn't okay, not really, not at all, they had that moment to spend together, an anchor to hold onto in the storm that was to come.


	9. Chapter 9

It was official. The night before a task produced worse anxiety than all of the OWLs combined. Cassius had begun to suspect this before the first task, but he'd acknowledged that the dragon may have been the main cause of that. But now, with the second task growing steadily nearer, he was forced to acknowledge that the Tournament itself was to blame for the disturbance in his sleep schedule. For what felt like the millionth time, Cassius rolled over in his bed and went over his plan.

Easily his biggest flaw was his inability to clearly plan at all. Other than learning useful spells and frequently practicing his bubble head charm, there wasn't much he could do to prepare. From his observations, he'd been able to guess that the merpeople lived somewhere to the right of the Slytherin common room, which was left of where they'd set up stands the day before, assuming that was to be the start. He'd have to watch out for grindylows, selkies, and, of course, the giant squid, among other creatures he'd been unable to identify, concerning him more than the others. His main worry, however, was that Adrian had not returned from the library that night, and he had a sinking feeling of why. Groaning in frustration, Cassius rolled over to his other side to begin the process again.

/

"You know that portrait down the charms corridor? Laurence the Leery? You look a shade worse than him."

"Thanks." Cassius didn't have the energy to fight back. In spite of his lack of sleep, he felt uncomfortably awake and rather on edge. He shoved his breakfast into his mouth, ignoring the fact that it tasted uncomfortably like how he imagined cardboard would, because he knew if he didn't, he'd regret it later.

"So where do you think Pucey is?"

"It's like the song said, isn't it? They took something, I've got to get it back." Andrew paled slightly.

"Oh. Right." Andrew shifted uncomfortably. "Um, didn't the song say something about if you miss the hour it won't come back?"

"Yeah. But that's probably an empty threat. I mean, after the Age Line, and the debates and discussions they're said to've had at the ministry, they won't let people die for this." Cassius realized he was saying this as much for his own comfort as Andrew's but it did make him feel a bit better. Still, who knew with Dumbledore.

Just the night before, Cassius had been dreading the task, but now he wished it would just begin. Anything was better than this waiting, the feeling of people looking at him and whispering. He looked over to the Gryffindor table, hoping to see Potter sharing in his nerves, and was surprised not to see him at all.

"Where's Potter, do you think?" Andrew turned around and looked down the Gryffindor table, then shrugged.

"Dunno. Last minute practice with some spells? Or maybe he's too nervous to eat." Cassius nodded, but wasn't sure if he bought either of those answers. "Granger and Weasley are gone too." Another quick scan of the table showed that Fawley was right.

"Well, one of them is probably the person Potter's got to find, right? And the other is probably with him, preparing or something, like you said."

"Right. Anyway, d'you reckon the elves would make me a basket if I slipped down to the kitchens before the task? Because if you're swimming, we'll just be looking at the lake for an hour, and there's only so much small talk I can take without snacks." Cassius rolled his eyes and laughed a little, and Andrew, taking this as encouragement, continued to explain himself. Questions about Harry Potter and worries about the task fell, however briefly, from Cassius' mind, and when Andrew went to the kitchens, he grabbed a pastry for himself.

/

Harry Potter was running down the bank of the lake to the stands, and although Warrington was slightly irritated at his near tardiness, he was at least grateful for the boost in his trust of his instincts. He had known it had been strange that Potter hadn't been at breakfast that morning. They still weren't friends, and Cassius still wanted to beat him, but he also wanted Potter to continue to outscore Fleur and Krum. The Slytherin-Gryffindor rivalry was good in its place, but when it came down to Gryffindor or Beauxbatons, he'd choose Hogwarts.

Rolling his wand over in his hand, he waited for Bagman to finish talking to Harry, then, at the whistle, waded into the water. As soon as it was deep enough, he put a slight warming spell over his body, followed by the Bubble head charm. And he began to swim.

In different circumstances, Cassius may have enjoyed himself. The water was a light green color, making Cassius feel at home. Fish flitted in and out of view, and the water was alive with sounds he'd never heard, the sounds of life underwater were, it seemed as varied as those above.

"Memento Trahenta!" He muttered, grateful for the Bubble head charm allowing him to speak. A glowing light formed a post on one end, and on the other, wrapped itself around his ankle. As he swam forward, he saw that the string was doing its job of marking his path. Gripping his wand, Cassius continued to swim forward, looking for something different in the endless sea of grass that covered the bottom of the lake. Suddenly, he felt webbed hands close around his neck—not the long fingers of a grindylow, but something rather different.

Choking, Cassius crossed his arm over his chest and shot a silent stinging jinx at the creature, hurriedly swimming forward when it let go. The creature, it seemed, was more angry than hurt, and launched furiously through the water toward him.

"Stupefy!" Cassius looked at the thing as it sank into the grass. It seemed to be a sort of deep-water dwelling Kappa, but he was pretty sure those didn't exist. And if they did, he was they should be in Japan, not Scotland. Touching his neck, Warrington felt small welts starting to form. Catching his breath as he swam, Cassius checked his direction with a point me charm, ensuring that he was still headed to the general area that he had supposed the merpeople to be settled. After a run-in with fish that seemed to be after his blood and a near miss with a pack of Grindylows, who had looked as though they were on a hunt of some sort, he came across a settlement of merpeople.

Tied to a giant statue of a merperson were the hostages. All four were still there, but one of the champions was already by their sides. Swimming faster, Cassius pushed himself to the statue. It was Potter. Of course it was. Casting a severing charm, he cut Adrian free, then turned to look at Potter who, for some reason, was still there.

"Get a move on! Fleur and Krum'll be here any minute!" Not waiting to see if his advice was kept, Warrington grabbed hold of Adrian's leg. Now was the tricky part of the charm he had begun with. If he'd done it wrong, he had a long swim ahead of him. But if he'd done it right, and could get this last bit perfectly…

Tightening his grip on his friend, he aimed his wand at the string of light that still shone around his ankle.

"Reditio!" It felt like diving on a broom, except Cassius was pretty sure he'd left all his important organs behind him as the string rewound itself, dragging Cassius (and therefore Adrian) along with it. Stopping was almost worse though, and as he felt his stomach return to its position with a jolt, he had the urge to throw up all the breakfast he'd made himself eat. Swimming forward a bit, his head began to rise above the water. Removing the Bubble Head charm, he surfaced. Adrian's eyes opened slowly, as though he was waking up, and he released himself from Warrington's grip.

"I've got it from here, yeah?" Cassius heard Ludo Bagman's ringing voice announcing that he'd made it back with five minutes left in the hour, and nearly stumbled over his feet as he continued to wade out. He'd been looking for fifty five minutes? It seemed impossible. He and Adrian were handed towels and given huge hugs and pats on the back by all of their friends, who rushed past Dumbledore in an effort to meet them. Andrew provided them with some of his remaining pastries and a thermos of pumpkin juice.

"You're the first back, Cassius. Well, if you don't count Fleur. But she had to be rescued—grindylows got her—so that doesn't count. You've got to tell us everything tonight, we're celebrating and you can't say no, but if I don't leave for now I think I'll be kicked out." Cassius and Adrian walked over to the judge's table, where Fleur Delacour sat, shivering and in considerable distress. Uncomfortable, but unsure what to say, the two just talked to each other.

The next bout of excitement came when Viktor Krum (as a shark!) surfaced with Hermione Granger. People applauded, but there were also murmered giggles about the fact that Hermione Granger was the thing Viktor Krum would miss.

"Well he doesn't seem particularly close to his schoolmates, what were they supposed to do? Send for his family or a teammate from Bulgaria? That's way too far to come for a day." Cassius nodded along, but mostly he just thought it kind of sad that Krum didn't have closer friends, and was extremely grateful for Andrew and Adrian.

Finally (what had taken him so long?) Harry Potter surfaced, along with Ron Weasley and a little girl who, he reasoned from Fleur's shrieks, was Gabrielle Delacour (ah, that was what had taken him so long). Now all that was left was to hear the points, and he could go back to the dorm, and not worry about the tournament until they gave instructions for the third task. So as the judges deliberated, Cassius sat back and waited.

/

"Of course. Of course Harry Potter gets points for moral fibre. Taking a song like that seriously—come on! That's not morality, that's being stupid!" Andrew had been bemoaning Potter's luck for the past hour, sitting with Adrian and Cassius while what seemed like the rest of the house set up for a celebration.

"I'm still in first, you know. Tied, but still. First."

"But—"

"Yeah, it's still stupid." Cassius was frustrated, but he grinned in spite of himself. "We totally called this at the start of tournament though." Andrew laughed.

"That's right, 100 for waking up for the task or something, right?"

"You're the next Trelawney, Andrew," Adrian threw in.

"Tell us of our fates, please!" Andrew grabbed his palms and shrieked, pushing it back.

"Oh, my dears… You have… the Grim!" Andrew's voice took on what was meant to imitate the misty quality of Trelawney's, although it sounded rather like he was trying to sing falsetto.

"That's in tea leaves and crystal balls you prat," Cassius choked out through his laughter, swatting him. "You're supposed to tell me that my life line is short or something."

"Ah, well. You know what, mate, today'll be some great content for the second years' play." Grabbing the pillow by his side, Cassius smacked Andrew.

"Don't give them ideas."

/

Knowing that he didn't have to worry about the tournament until the twenty fourth of may was freeing. Looking ahead to three months of unburdened thought (Well, realistically two and a half—he had to start worrying at some point, right?), he was cheerful as he headed to classes the next day. Even McGonagall's four foot essay and Moody's pop quiz couldn't dampen his spirits. As he sat in the library and pulled out his work, he almost felt excited. Glory was good in its time, but there was some feeling of accomplishment around doing the ordinary well, and in that moment, he felt that his highest ambition was to live in this sort of peace.


	10. Chapter 10

If someone had told Cassius Warrington yesterday that he'd end up at the top of the astronomy tower with Marietta Edgecombe, he'd have said they were mad. But there they were, sitting with their backs to the wall, trying to ignore the sounds coming from inside the tower.

"Where. Are. They." By the way Marietta's teeth were clenched, Cassius guessed that she was also considerably annoyed at the absence of the Weasley twins.

"They're only five minutes late—"

"Yeah, five hellish minutes of hearing Fawcett and Stebbins eat each others' faces off!" Cassius decided to stop arguing with her. This had really not been the plan. It should've been simple—Cassius had been meeting the Weasley twins for a trip to the Three Broomsticks, and Marietta had decided to invite herself along, which was fine. Then, Lee Jordan had told them to go to the astronomy tower instead of the second floor corridor which had been the original plan, because Filch had switched his patrols. Then Stebbins and Fawcett had come up the stairs, and Warrington found himself hiding out on the balcony while they…well, he was trying not to think about what they were doing. And he was wondering how much he really needed the butterbeer. But then he imagined Fawley's complaints if he didn't get it—"Oh come Cassius, two bottles of butterbeer was all I asked. It's not Ogden's finest. Merlin's beard, it's not even fire whiskey, I got that. And don't even blame it on the Weasley twins—"

"There!" Cassius followed Marietta's hand to two figures flying toward them, watching as they took shape as the solid figures of the Weasley twins.

"You're late." The twins landed and dismounted, one walking over to the wall while the other shrugged apologetically.

"Filch. We couldn't do anything about—" He stopped, wrinkling his nose. What is that?"

"That is the past five minutes," Warrington put simply, and the twin nodded in sudden clarity.

"Got the door George?"

"One second…mm there it is." Where the wall had been, a door appeared, reminding Cassius of the archway to Diagon Alley.

"There's a passage from Hogsmeade to the astronomy tower?" Fred laughed at Marietta's confusion, and George shook his head.

"Of course not. There's a passage from the astronomy tower to a passage to Hogsmeade. It was all caved in when we found it—"

"But after some careful excavation, it's perfectly usable now. Though usually not very practical. Perfectly safe though." Cassius looked at Marietta, who shrugged, and they turned to the tunnel, following Fred while George closed the door. The passage must've been magical, because Cassius swore they were walking horizontally far past the end of the astronomy tower. After walking for a while, they reached a dead end, where a hole in the wall in front of them led to a vertical passage with no bottom in sight.

"This is the tricky part, but you ought to be fine. Just follow my lead—" With that, Fred braced himself on either side of the hole and swung his feet forward then dropped, not falling into the hole but landing on the wall in front of them like it was nothing out of the ordinary. Marietta's eyebrows rose, and Cassius felt similarly impressed.

"Gravity field? We've been walking down, haven't we?"

"And the passage is in front of us…How far down? And is this—"

"Not our work, though we've been working on figuring it out for some products. I don't know how far, but you'll want to cast a cushioning spell the first few times, until you learn how much momentum to use. Go on now, I'll come last." After a bit of uncertainty, they all made it through the hole in the wall and followed Fred as he led the way to the end of the passage, which led them to—

"Honeydukes? There's a passage to Honeydukes?"

"Warrington, there's a passage most anywhere you'd want to go, if you know where to look." A few months ago, Cassius realized, he would have taken Fred's tone as scornful, but now he recognized it as a simple statement of fact, and wondered how much of the divide between Gryffindors and Slytherins could be solved just by having them listen to each other. Maybe the looming war wouldn't even be a problem, maybe they'd all just be on the same side of things…his cheery mood dropped somewhat as he thought about it. Ever since the Hufflepuffs' party, his conversation with Adrian had been coming back to him at the most inconvenient times. He was aware of the one of the twins making some stupid joke or another, and of Marietta and the other twin laughing, but he suddenly felt checked out and exhausted, just wanting to get the butterbeer, give it to Fawley, and go to sleep.

"Helloo, Cassius Warrington. Are you there?" George was waving a hand in his face, and Marietta and Fred were looking at him, the former concerned and the latter questioning. "And he's back folks!" Cassius noted that they were standing at the entrance to the Three Broomsticks.

"Knut for your thoughts?" Fred posed the question conversationally, but there was an underlying question, almost like some kind of concern…with a jolt, Cassius realized that was exactly what it was. They all cared. Maybe it shouldn't have mattered, but it did, and all of a sudden he wanted to tell them everything that was wrong, but he couldn't. He could say something though.

"It's just…Have you ever wondered what the future holds for us? I mean, what if there's another war? What'll happen? Hogwarts is so divided already and that just creates room for so many worse things once we're all out in the world."

"We've just got to stand on the right side." George said it so matter-of-factly Warrington wanted to scream, but instead he just looked down for a second, clearing his head, then looked back up, into George's eyes.

"And what if the right side won't take me? Not you," he said, watching all three bite back the argument that had been coming. "I mean everyone else on the right side, everyone in charge. And even if they do, then what? What do I do about all of my friends and family who're still on the other side? The world isn't black and white or right and wrong, it's made up of millions of places where morality is grey and choices have loads of factors that don't appear on the surface, and I can't just ignore those things."

"So what do you want?" Marietta was looking at him evenly and unblinkingly. And Cassius was finally and totally torn from his thoughts and grounded back in the moment, remembering that he they were in the middle of Hogsmeade; and all the energy of his impassioned speech drained away, and he just felt tired again.

"I want something to change. I don't want to be forced into the grey areas; I want a choice. I want my friends to have a choice."

It felt too silent as he stopped talking. George had developed a fixation on his feet while Fred looked up. Marietta was still focused on him, and as their eyes met he felt like she understood; not completely, but enough. Looking away from her, he pulled the door open and walked inside the pub.

/

The party hadn't been a big affair; a small remnant of Slytherin students remained in the common room, but most had gone to bed, or at least back to their rooms. Cassius, Andrew, and Adrian had left some time before under disillusionments and had flown out to the hills near Hogsmeade, where Andrew had pulled out a bottle of Ogden's finest, and for a while, the three of them sat in relative silence, leaning against one of the boulders scattered among the hills. It was Andrew who finally broke the silence, pulling Warrington's attention to the very thing he'd been trying to avoid.

"So are you ready?"

"As ready as I'm going to get. I think I could put up a pretty good fight against anything they've got for us, and it helps that I'm going in first."

"First with bloody Potter," Fawley snorted. "I still don't believe they gave him so many points the second round. It's ridiculous."

"Well, it happened. Anyway, Potter's an idiot most of the time, but he's not so bad of a person, really." Cassius didn't turn to look, but he saw Adrian stiffen as Andrew's mouth fell open.

"Potter's not so bad? Salazar, Warrington, he's a Gryffindor! And if that's not enough he's arrogant and selfish and an absolute prick. He thinks he's better than us just because of our house—"

"And we don't do that? Merlin, Fawley, you said it yourself, the first thing you accused him of was being a Gryffindor, like he could help that—"

"Lord, Pucey, you too? Did you two eat something odd tonight or—" Andrew cut off as Cassius sighed deeply. "Look, just say whatever it is you have to say, alright?"

Cassius winced at the anger buried in his friend's tone, and thought carefully about his words. Why had this been so much easier to say earlier? Because you didn't care as much what they thought, his mind Because you felt supported and now you're trying to change the whole perspective of one of your best friends.

"It's just…" He closed his eyes and looked up at the stars. "I wish that there wasn't so much of a divide between us. That's how wars start, with people branding each other as the enemy and not looking for any way to understand each other, just mindlessly fighting for the side they've been assigned to by birth or whatever. Don't you ever wish we had a choice, Andrew? Even if you'd do the same as you'll do now, don't you wish it could be you deciding that and not your parents, or tradition, or some stupid divide?"

"So you want to get all snuggled up with the Gryffs?"

"That's not what he meant Fawley, and you know it."

"You too, Pucey?" Andrew seemed mad still, but Cassius didn't feel like the anger was directed at him, or even at Adrian. "Look, think what you want. I didn't become your friend because you agreed with me about everything, so I'm not going to turn my back on you because we disagree. But I'm not just going to get cozy with the Mudbloods—Muggleborns, whatever—just because you're upset about choices; and anyway, they wouldn't let me. Don't pretend that it's just my family that's stopping me from having a choice, it's them too."

Cassius was silent. He could see that Adrian wanted to argue, but they couldn't. It was true.

"Let's not talk about it any more, yeah? The final task is tomorrow, and I don't care what our sides are about this, I want both of you supporting me, because you're right. We're friends outside of these things." Andrew nodded, and a smile crossed his face, slightly hindered, but still there. Adrian followed suit, and the three of them sat and talked for a while longer before grabbing their brooms and flying back to the castle. It was the early hours of the twenty-fourth of June, and if not exactly at peace, all were well.


	11. Chapter 11

Cassius couldn't tell how long he'd been in the maze. It was probably part of the magic, screwing with his ideas of time. He was also pretty sure they'd somehow magically expanded the quidditch pitch, because it felt much larger than normal. He stopped for a second to get his bearings, checking his arm as he did. To say that his encounter with the blast-ended skrewt hadn't been fun was an understatement. His healing spell had done something, but a potion was what was really needed for this, and he supposed that would just have to wait. Conjuring a fresh bandage, Cassius could only find space to be glad that it hadn't been his wand arm, then he continued on.

There was something horrible about the silence, he felt. With your senses hyper-alert, you couldn't help but feel as though something was right around every corner, mostly because something could be. Still, he'd preferred the silence to the scream that suddenly seemed to echo through the maze, a scream that had to belong to Fleur. Cassius knew he couldn't get there—it was far too muted to be anywhere nearby—but he nearly started running anyway, and barely stopped himself from tripping into the hole in front of him. He swallowed, looking at the little holes he would have fallen on, and perhaps lost his wand in, and then, defenseless…red caps weren't an issue, but only so long as he had a way to repel them.

Casting a shield charm around his body, he started across the path, moving as fast as he could without falling, shooting down the red caps when needed, until finally, he made it across. Breaking into a faster run, Cassius moved forward, wanting to put some space between himself and the red caps, and found himself running directly into something—which, to his great relief, turned out to be Krum.

"Sorry," he grunted, catching his breath and backing away. Krum turned around slowly, and Cassius had a sudden urge to run away, then felt nothing at all but pain, pain like nothing he'd felt before. He was vaguely aware of himself screaming, but he couldn't find it in himself to care. Everything in his body was on fire, his muscles were stiffened with shock and he couldn't release them for what felt like hours until finally, suddenly, it stopped and he collapsed on the ground. Potter hovered over him, face white.

"I heard him cast…d'you think—I mean…" Potter's face came more clearly into focus, and Cassius vaguely began to realize what he was thinking.

"You heard her scream too then?" Potter nodded. "I think he was under the imperius. He was moving all slow, and when he turned around his eyes looked out of focus…" Potter nodded again.

"Right, er… I'll see you at the end, I guess. And we should probably let them know about Krum." Potter sent up sparks, nodded at Warrington, and followed the passage to the left.

Cassius shrugged and went right. He didn't know how many turns he made. He never passed Krum again and never ran into Fleur, and what little part of his mind wasn't focused on going the right direction and surviving was creating endless possibilities of what could be going on and what could have happened to her. He was going more slowly now, which he was grateful for as he was able to sneak up on a lemix lying in wait in the shadows, stunning it and banishing its weapons before moving on. What had really shaken him had been the boggart, which had taken the form of Andrew, looking at him as he cast the Avada Kedavra. He'd responded quickly enough—it wasn't as if his fear had surprised him; he had, after all, been dwelling on it for weeks—but the image had replaced that of Fleur in the back of his mind, a constant recording of the sight of one of his best friends looking him in the eye and preparing to kill him, not caring, not blinking—

There it was. The Triwizard cup in the center of the maze, and Harry Potter looking at him from across the circle. They both ran up to it, reached for it, and stopped, wands out, looking at each other mistrustfully. And Cassius lowered his wand.

"What are you doing?" Potter asked, his brow wrinkled in confusion, looking ready for some kind of trap.

"I'm making a choice. Come on, we can take the cup together. It's still a victory for Hogwarts, either way, and maybe it can do something. If we win together, maybe neither of our houses will be angry—"

"Or both of them will," Potter pointed out. Cassius had to laugh.

"At least they'll be agreeing on something. Come on, Potter. On three. One-Two-Three!" Cassius reached out his hand as Potter did the same, and felt his feet lift off the ground as the portkey was activated to transport them outside of the maze. He could picture Andrew's face, his eyes rolling at the sight of Potter but excited anyway; and Pucey by his side, cheering loudly. He was ready to come back, truly a champion, and hear the shouts of the crowd as the Hogwarts students realized they had won. His feet touched the ground, and he once more felt the silence echoing throughout his body, the tingling sensation running up his arms.

A cold, high voice broke through it. "Kill the spare." Cassius closed his eyes, time seeming to move even more slowly than it had in the maze. He knew what was coming.

"Avada Kadavra!" A weak voice shouted. Cassius Warrington fell to the ground, and felt no more.


	12. Chapter 12

…and then something much larger began to blossom from Voldemort's wand tip, a great, grayish something, that looked as though it were made of the solidest, densest smoke… It was a head… now a chest and arms…the torso of Cassius Warrington.

Cassius would've expected it to feel like jerking awake from a dream of falling, but in truth it was more like he was being pulled out of a hole in the ground. The feeling of wrongness filled him—he was somewhere he didn't belong anymore, but in this moment he needed to be back. He stood up and looked first at the circle of death eaters and then at Harry, clinging onto his wand with a shaking arm.

"Hold the connection, Potter." Harry's arm continued to shake, but—Cassius thought hopefully—a bit less violently. Screams erupted, and then Cassius turned to watch as an old man emerged from the tip of Voldemort's wand. It looked just as it had felt, being squeezed out bit by bit, darkening without really solidifying. There but not there. As he spoke and a woman emerged from the wand, Cassius returned his gaze to the circle, scanning each member. He had seen these robes before, hidden in the closets of his parents, his friends' parents. Which of these masks hid his father? Or Fawley's? Which was Nott?

His gaze was turned back to the connection as a woman—Lily Potter, it seemed—emerged. He tensed, prepared for the action that he knew must come next. Harry must escape; must get back to Hogwarts. He thought of his conversation with Pucey, ages ago, it seemed, back in the Hufflepuff common room. "Our only option is to stay out of it," Pucey had said. Maybe it wasn't. Maybe he could do this one thing.

"Take my body back, Potter." He heard his whispered voice, almost a plea. "Take it to my friends, tell them what happened. Give them a choice."

"I will," Harry said. His father spoke to him once more, and the moment was at hand.

"NOW!" Harry yelled. Cassius released the tension he'd been building up, launching himself at Voldemort with all of his anger. All of the choices he'd been forced to make; all the ones he'd never gotten to—they all culminated in this one choice. This final choice. He held on as long as he could and then, along with the others, he felt himself fully fade, lingering just long enough to hear Voldemort's scream of fury.

/

"There! Pucey the cup, it's there!" Adrian followed Fawley's flailing arm, standing with those around him to see who had won. It was Potter, and with him was… "That's Cassius. Pucey, what the hell has Potter done to Cassius?" Fawley's face was dead white—likely matching his own, Pucey thought. Then, all at once, he felt himself shutting down, because he was looking at his friend's body and that was all it was. He felt himself pushing his way through the crowd in front of him until he reached the side of his best friend who was seventeen—Merlin, he was seventeen—and he was kneeling on the ground as Potter was pulled away by Moody. He should be crying. That would be normal. Fawley was crying, he saw, tears streaming silently down his face as he searched the crowd for people who weren't coming.

"Where are they?" Andrew turned to look at Adrian.

"When he calls, they answer. Do you really think she'd have let him go alone?"

"But didn't they see…he's their son they'd've done something."

"What, against Voldemort? What would they have done? They went running back to him with their tails between their legs, do you think they're going to fight him?" Adrian knew he sounded harsh and callous, and he felt it. His parents might've been there too. Just because he'd never seen them in robes didn't mean they didn't have them. Denmore Fawley certainly would've been, Atlas Warrington as well. All he knew was that he was kneeling by the body of one of his best friends and none of them were there.

"Fawley! Pucey!" Adrian looked up at Snape, who was accompanied by Madam Pomfrey. "We must take Mr. Warrington now. You two may come if you wish." Andrew nodded numbly and stood, but Adrian remained kneeling.

"Have you notified his parents, professor?" Snape's mouth thinned, and Adrian grimaced. "Right. He's got relations—an aunt of some sort, in Wales. You should try her." Snape nodded, and Adrian stood. Madam Pomfrey conjured a stretcher, and he walked behind it alongside Fawley, making the journey to the castle with their friend one last time.

/

"He shouldn't have died." Potter was looking at the floor as he said it, and it was all Andrew could do not to scream at him. Of course he shouldn't have died. But he had.

"How did it happen." Adrian's voice was flat, as it had been every time he had spoken for the last few hours.

"We took the cup at the same time. He said that it was a victory for Hogwarts either way, so we grabbed it, and the portkey activated, but it wasn't to the outside of the stadium, it was to this graveyard. And then he said—Voldemort said—to kill the spare." Potter's eyes closed, and Andrew looked away from him as he began to talk again. "If I'd just thought…or if I hadn't been there at all—it was my fault we went there, it's my fault he's dead."

Kill the spare. That had been it. Cassius had just been a spare part.

"Thank you for bringing his body back." Andrew focused on Pucey because he couldn't look at Potter. The truth of the horror was too clear in his eyes.

"Do you know…the minister gave me the winnings, but they shouldn't be mine, not really, so I thought—"

"His family's not here." The bitterness in his own voice surprised Andrew. "Were there death eaters there? When he died?"

"Just the one who brought Voldemort back. Most of them didn't come until later." Andrew's eyes closed. They hadn't seen it, they hadn't done it… But they'd seen him. Dead. And they hadn't done anything.

"Right."

"Er…thanks for listening. I just—it's right that you know." Potter left the room, and Andrew buried his face in his hands. Pucey moved over to the window and looked out.

"It didn't matter." Andrew felt his voice cut through the silence. "He was a pureblood and a Slytherin and they didn't care at all." Adrian didn't move. "His parents, my parents, they saw him there and they didn't do anything. They haven't even come back to see his body. Salazar, Adrian, they haven't even come to see his body."

"No, they haven't. And yeah, they were there. It's not the first time they've seen someone dead."

"But he's their son. He's my friend.He's—"

"More important? Worth more?"

"Different." Now Adrian turned to face him.

"Yeah. He was different." His voice wasn't flat anymore but pinched, angry at something Andrew knew wasn't him, but something far bigger. "He was different because he was like them. But he was still in their way, so he was removed. He decided to tie with Potter, so he was removed. He thought that there was a chance the world could be better, so he was removed. Maybe his parents didn't kill him, or ours, but they couldn't fight afterward either, because they subscribed to the death eater philosophy a long time ago, and they dragged us into this fight with them." Andrew shook his head.

"We haven't done anything, we shouldn't have to fight!" Adrian collapsed onto a desk, his anger deflating.

"Yeah, we shouldn't. But we do, because life isn't fair. The most we can do is choose what we're fighting for."

"Can we? Choose?" Andrew realized what he was saying as the words came out. A day ago—an hour ago—he wouldn't have considered going against his parents, his ways. But now…

"I don't know. But I'm going to try. And if they don't let me, I'm going to make up a new option." They sat there in silence for a while, thinking of their friend. Adrian stood first.

"There are other people who should know. Jack, for one." Andrew nodded in agreement.

"That Ravenclaw—Edgecombe. And Patty Stimpson."

"The Weasleys already know, probably, but we should make sure they know all of it." Adrian smiled a bit, and although it was a sad, broken smile, it was real. "Never thought I'd be encouraging the Weasley twins to spread a story around." Andrew half-smiled in return, and, shoving his hands in his pockets, started forward out of the room.

/

"I would like you all, please, to stand, and raise your glasses to Cassius Warrington."

Adrian choked out his friend's name, unable to listen as Dumbledore began to list off his qualities. He had stopped feeling numb and angry and fierce; he just felt tired. He didn't want to sleep, he just wanted to go and do something simple and mentally consuming and think about something different but he couldn't, because his mind wouldn't stop replaying Harry's story about the graveyard; wouldn't stop showing him the image of his friend, dead.

"Cassius Warrington was murdered by Lord Voldemort."

Andrew heard the whispers fill the Great Hall at the sound of Voldemort's name—and at the implication that he was alive. He scanned the hall and saw that almost everyone was standing. United because of Cassius. He thought back to the night before the third task, a night his mind kept going back to. It shouldn't have happened like this, but Cassius would've been glad to see the unity. Absently, Andrew reached out a hand to Adrian, bringing his friend back from the horrors in his mind as he'd learned to do recently.

"In light of what has happened—of Lord Voldemort's return—such ties are more important than ever before."

Marietta scanned the Beauxbatons students sitting near her as Dumbledore spoke, but it was only vaguely that she was listening. She'd think more about what she'd heard later, but for now, she was scanning the other students, the ones who hadn't heard the story. Some of the Slytherins looked bitter, understandably. Dumbledore was essentially blaming them for one of their own dying—at least, in their eyes. Some students merely looked frightened, others shocked, some truly remorseful. But the ones who had known were who she kept feeling her gaze drawn back to. Andrew Fawley and Adrian Pucey, missing a piece in the absence of their third friend. Harry Potter, looking haunted, as he had since he'd shown up with Cassius' body in hand. So many more—Zoe Accrington, Nerissa Brody, Jack Bagley, Fred and George Weasley, and Patricia Stimpson among them—all with chins held high, honoring the friend that they'd lost, whether he'd been theirs for months or years. Turning back to Dumbledore, she lifted her chin too.

"Remember Cassius. Remember, if the time should come when you have to make a choice between what is right and what is easy, remember what happened to a boy who was determined, and resourceful, and loyal, because he crossed the path of Lord Voldemort. Remember Cassius Warrington."

Across the Great Hall, goblets were raised once more, and the students drank in his honor. They didn't know what the future had in store, but they wouldn't let his memory be forgotten. They would remember.


End file.
